


Almalak

by thinker1357



Series: Angels & Heros [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angel!Dick, Angst, Dick dies, Dick has no idea what he's doing, Fluff, Freeform, Gen, I suck at tags, and summaries, he's damian's guardian angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinker1357/pseuds/thinker1357
Summary: Dick dies at the hands of the joker then finds himself as the guardian angel of one Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.





	1. Guardian angel

It was the end of the line, a fact that Dick knew well. After almost twenty-four hours of almost non-stop torture, his body couldn’t take anymore. The Joker had taken his time with Dick. Beaten him with a paddle upside down till every inch of his skin was tender, then taking a knife and carving a smile into his face _\- “why so serious, Robbie?”_ \- Before quizzing Dick on parts of his anatomy with his crowbar. “ _You know, Robbie, the human thigh bone is almost as strong as a brick wall, let’s test that. I’ll swing the crowbar and you count-don’t give me that look. Think of it as an investigation! You and Batsy love those don’t you? Now, ready, set-“_

Dick screamed into the leather belt that was his makeshift gag as the Joker dragged a knife through the skin on his chest. Bile bubbled up from his stomach and threatened to leave his stomach, he was left heaving in his chair, arms tied to the back, his body curled up as though he were trying to protect himself.

“Look, Robbie! Now everybody’ll be able to identify your dead body.” The Joker bounced into view, his maniacal grin pasted on white face. In his hand was the same knife that had inflicted him pain, covered in blood. Dick glared at the joker with the little strength he had through the hair that hung over his sight. The Joker laughed at his weak attempt and casually threw the knife behind his back, not caring where it landed.

“It’s been fun and all but you’re starting to get a little boring bird boy. I’ll just leave you here all trussed up for batsy to find while I go have some fun in the city. Don’t move a muscle.” The Joker laughed at his own joke and walked away giggling, the sound still there long after he disappeared. Dick leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, struggling to pull air into his lungs.

_Don’t move a muscle._

Dick snorted in amusement between his panting. That was actually funny; his hands were tied up to the back of the chair and his legs each were tied to two different legs of the chair, also. That combined with his injuries literally meant he couldn’t move a muscle, how clever of the Joker. He wondered how long it would take for Batman to find him. It had been over twenty-four hours and his body wouldn’t be able to support itself anymore. A chill rippled through his body, Dick could feel his limbs becoming numb and his head getting lighter and lighter.

_Great, he was going to die of blood loss. What a boring way to go, with his line of work Dick had expected to die in at least a more exciting way. The pretty lights sparkled above him and Dick wondered how they got there if he had his eyes closed. Soft voices began speaking and Dick tried to concentrate on what they were saying. Did he mention the pretty lights, because they were getting closer. He wondered if Batman would think these lights were-_

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Batman moved through the shadows of the silent warehouse. He was suspicious of a trap, usually when the Joker was around, there would be loud crazy laughing and guards at every corner. Bruce had yet to hear anything other than his breathing and hadn’t seen a single guard. Dick had been kidnapped almost two days ago while doing his nightly patrol over in Bludhaven, Bruce hadn’t even known until last night when the Joker began sending him clues as to where Dick was.

Guilt ate away at his mind as he remembered. His eldest (still unofficial) son had gone missing and he hadn’t even noticed it until the villain had bragged about it in his face. What was he supposed to tell Dick when he asked why it took so long to find him? That he had been too busy brooding and grieving over Jason’s death to notice he had gone missing? No. That would create another reason for Dick to hate Bruce- not that their relationship was doing well anyways.

 Batman paused at the end of the hallway facing the last door. It was covered in blood and between the red mess he could see the words “HI BATSY” engraved in the wood. Warily, he pushed the door open only to be met by a scene that would haunt him the rest of his life.

The room was pitch black except for a corner of the room where a window spilled moonlight on a sight that made his blood run cold. Dick was sitting limply in a chair, his head back and shirtless. On his caved in chest the bloody words, “ROBIN #1” were carved in and his legs were twisted in a way that they couldn’t even be described as such. The chair was drenched in blood, the stains never to be washed out, and a puddle of blood surrounded it with bloody footprints leading away from it. All these things were noticed by Batman in a cursory glance, but what had Bruce’s attention was the man’s pale skin, blue lips and his unmoving chest.

Dick Grayson was dead. Bruce didn’t have to check to know. Nightwing was dead. His partner. His Robin. His son. His light. Was dead.

And for the second time that year Batman fell on his knees and cried for his dead son.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Dick was met with a bright white light the next time he opened his eyes. The brightness burned and he felt his eyes close against wishes.

“Hi! Welcome to Heaven!” A bright voice greeted him. His eyes shot open and he sat up before recoiling back in confusion at the ridiculous sight of a man with wings and dressed in white.

“What the hell?” Dick muttered, squinting in disbelief at the image his eyes were sending his brain.

“Oh no, this isn’t hell. That’s two levels down, you’re in heaven!” The man exclaimed exuberantly, throwing his hand out in an arch as he said “Heaven”. Dick blinked.

“Huh?” All happiness fell from the man’s face at that and the little of his personality that Dick had seen seemed to do a one-eighty.

“Ok, listen the fuck up, kid. You died, meaning you fucked up and got yourself killed or God decided your time down in earth was over, either way you died. The big man decided you were a good guy and dragged your dumb ass up from Paradise to here. You. Are. In. Heaven.” The man spit out. Dick stared at the guy in shock, weren’t angels supposed to be nice and polite?

“Uhhh, ‘kay. What am I doing in Heaven, sir?” Dick asked politely, the dude scared him. The man in front of him dragged a hand through his hair-the locks still magically staying in place- muttering under his breath about how he always got the idiots. Dick chose not to take it personally.

“You died 3 years ago due to blood loss from all the injuries you sustained from the Joker. God sent you to Paradise, the place of eternal peace, where most good people go. However, one day while looking through your life, god decided that Paradise wasn’t good enough for you. So he decided to let you go back to earth-” Dick’s lips quirked up to smile.”-as a guardian angel” The angel finished, enjoying the flabbergasted look on Dick’s face.

“Wait a second, I have to look after some snot-nosed brat for the rest of his life? No way, I’d rather go back to Paradise.” Dick yelled.

“Too bad, you have no choice.” The smirking angel threw a manila folder at the clearly pouting human-turned-guardian-angel. “Everything you need to know about said snot nosed brat is in this folder. His name’s Damian. Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.” Dick looked up shocked recognizing the last two names. The angel held up a hand, effectively cutting off anything the younger man had to say.

 “His parents are Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s Al Ghul, and Bruce Wayne, the Batman. He was sired while his father was drunk and Wayne has no idea that he exists. Your job will be to protect Damian to the best of your abilities from the influences of the Al Ghul until his father finds him. Your charge will be born in exactly fifteen minutes. Good luck.” With that, the angel gave him a two finger salute and Dick found his body surrounded by a pillar of light before being overtaken by it.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

In a med bay deep underground somewhere in the Middle East, tiny Damian Wayne was born. The moment his eyes opened they were fixed to a dark corner of the room where a man with blue eyes and black hair stood unnoticed by the crowds of scientists and nurses, unwaveringly holding the baby’s gaze.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The first time Dick actually bothered going near the kid was when he was one. The clever baby had been playing with the lock on his crib and managed to get it open. Damian had giggled in delight for all of three seconds before falling out of the crib unto the floor and began crying.

Dick would have normally ignored the kid and just waited until a nurse came and dealt with him, except he knew that no one was in the facility the whole night, all of them had gone home to celebrate Ramadan and wouldn’t be back till the morning. So as the good guardian angel he was supposed to be, Dick walked up to the crying child and picked him up.

“Errr… there, there? It’s okay, you just fell. Nothing happened to you.” Dick awkwardly tried comforting the child, reaching up to move the baby’s already thick locks away from his face. At the sound of the stranger’s voice the baby slowly stopped crying. Instead, choosing to stare at the man’s face.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at the brat. When he wasn’t crying or pooping the kid was actually pretty cute. He reached up and tapped the child’s nose, grinning harder at the soft giggles the action caused.

”You’re a pretty cute brat, you know.” Damian pulled Dick’s hair. “I bet you look exactly like Bruce when he was a baby. I can’t find a single piece of Talia in you other than the eyes.” The baby kept looking at him, entranced by the sounds coming out the man’s mouth. “I’m going crazy amn’t I.” Dick stated to the now drooling baby. “I’m trying to have a single sided conversation with a baby and succeeding.”

Dick lifted the baby off him and placed him in the crib, gently tugging Damian’s fingers off his hair and wiping the drool off with a corner of a blanket. Securing the lock to make sure the baby couldn’t get out, Dick walked away only to pause when Damian began crying.

“Now what?” Dick exasperatedly asked, rubbing Damian’s tummy to calm him. The baby immediately latched unto the man’s thumb and pulled it into his mouth to suck on before he could do anything. Dick knew what he wanted now. “Nuh uh. No way am I going to stay. My job is to stop you from turning into a third Al Ghul, not babysit.” The baby kept staring up at him, tears welling up in his eyes, as though he understood Dick’s refusal. Dick felt his resolve weaken. “Fine, but only till you go to sleep, then I’m out.”

Damian seemingly content with that answer, stopped sniffling and continued sucking Dick’s thumb. Dick stayed long after Damian fell asleep.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

By the time Damian was two, it became routine for Dick to play with the baby in the night when no one was in the room. Dick would hide behind a curtain or a drawer and Damian would awkwardly crawl to where Dick was hiding, to be rewarded with hugs and kisses. The baby would laugh and giggle at the affection before patting Dick’s face and giving him a sloppy kiss back.

On such a night Dick had hidden behind a curtain furthest from where Damian was. He could hear the child’s determined grunts across the room, as the baby crawled to where his night-time friend was. Dick listened carefully to each grunt, trying to determine exactly how far away the baby was. As he listened he noticed the sounds change from grunts to almost pants. Curious as to what Damian was doing, Dick poked his head out to see.

There was Damian in his black and white onesie _walking_ to him. _Walking._ Dick squished down the happy squeal bubbling deep inside him and walked out from behind the curtain. “C’mon Dami, you can do it.” Dick encouraged, kneeling with his arms wide open. At Dick’s voice Damian’s face lit up and the toddlers walk became more determined.

The moment Damian was within arm’s reach, he was swept up by Dick into a tornado of affection. The baby giggled, oblivious to what he had done, still thinking it was because of the game.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 Damian started asking questions at age three.

“What’s your name?” the toddler asked from the floor, speaking very eloquently despite his age. Dick stared down at the child unsure of what to do, he decided to humor him.

“I don’t have a name.” Dick responded sitting on the floor next to the child and opening his arms wide for the child to crawl into.

“That’s silly, everybody has a name.” Damian wrinkled his nose, looking up at Dick from his lap.

“You’re right. Why don’t you name me?” Damian looked down at the alphabet blocks he had been playing with, wrinkling his forehead while he thought- Dick thought it was adorable- before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll name you. What do you want to be named?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to name me?” Dick chuckled.

“Almalak.” Damian immediately answered.

“What does that mean?”

Damian shrugged before picking up a block then answering. “It means Angel.”


	2. Part 2: age 4-6

Part 2:

On August 24, 2010, Damian’s birthday, Talia finally visited her son after four years of no contact, whatsoever. The whole occasion had taken thirty minutes, a cold wish of a happy birthday from Talia, silent, reverent awe from Damian and the heartless bitch had left.

Dick had seethed quietly in a corner of Damian’s nursery, cursing Talia in his mind to the most utter-deepest parts of hell and trying to make eye contact with Damian, who in his four-year-old hero worship of his mother, had forgotten that Dick was still there. Hovering over Damian protectively, like the guardian angel he was, he had watched the procession go down.

He had watched as Talia basically told Damian that he wasn’t worthy to be called her son and how he was a product of a mistake she sincerely regretted. He had watched as she called her own son a bastard and told him that it would be better if he forfeited his own life. After she had left, Dick had watched Damian’s façade crumbled and the boy had sunk to the floor sobbing, not understanding completely what his mother had said but knowing all the same that his mother had spoken of her displeasure with him.

Dick sat on the floor with the child in his lap, making soothing sounds and rubbing his back. Damian’s hands had found the back of Dick’s shirt and fisted them in it, twisting the ethereal clothe tighter as a new wave of sobs overtook him. Dick found himself wishing again and again that he could wring Talia’s self-righteous neck for what she had done to her son.

“Almalak.” A child’s tentative whisper broke Dick out of his blood-lust.

“Yes, Damian.” He whispered back, nuzzling Damian’s soft hair with his cheek in affection. There was a tentative pause as the four year old in his arms tried to gather his courage to ask his question. Dick squeezed the child lightly, in encouragement.

“Why does Mother not like me?” Dick paused, unsure of how to answer.

“Your mother…” Another pregnant pause as he tried to figure out how to word himself. “She… well, she was raised by her father, your grandfather, to be emotionless. It’s not that she dislikes you… but she doesn’t know how else to act. To her, emotions are useless and get in the way of her goals, so just like her father did, she’s trying to train you to be emotionless as well. It’s her way of showing she cares, by trying to help you succeed in the way she learned to.”

Dick held his breath, watching Damian’s face to see his reactions to Dick’s explanation. A few seconds passed as Damian sat tensely in his lap before the child slowly got up and faced the angel with a stern nod.

“Then I’ll make her proud. I won’t let feelings get in my way. I’ll be exactly like her, then she’ll have to like me.” Damian stated in a determined tone before turning and walking away from Dick on the floor. Dick scrambled to his feet, reaching out for Damian’s shoulder.

“Damian, I didn’t say it was the right way of teaching you. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. You should feel emotions. They’re what tells you what’s right and wrong, without them you wouldn’t be human. Even Talia feels things, she just doesn’t pay attention to them and that’s not a good way to behave. As her son you should learn from her mistakes.” Dick waited for Damian to turn, and tell him that he agreed with what he was saying, just as he always did but when seconds passed and nothing came, Dick knew that something had changed.

“Damian?” The boy didn’t answer. Without looking at him, Damian wrenched his shoulder from the gentle grasp Dick had on his shoulder and went to lie down in his bed.

At that moment Dick knew he had lost against Talia.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

True to his stubborn nature, Damian stuck with his four year old self’s word and had slowly distanced himself from everything in the next year. The blue teddy bear he had as a child and slept with was thrown out. His room was cleared of any childish things and filled with books and the essentials. Dick had eternally grieved at the changes but said nothing, knowing it was hopeless to try.

 He had even tried to distance himself from Dick. The guardian angel had spent a week in worry and sadness as the normally loving and playful child he had known withdrew himself from Dick. Damian had gone so far as to pretend that Dick wasn’t there sometimes, and Dick’s heartfelt pleas and concerns fell on deaf ears. Fortunately, the child had grew just as dependent on Dick as Dick had on Damian. Within a week, he had a sobbing child on his lap, begging for his forgiveness with tears in his eyes. Dick had felt tears escape his own eyes and forgave the child within a breath’s notice.

Damian was five now, his birthday had passed two months ago, and while his mother had visited him four times in the past year Damian still struggled to be worthy of his mother’s love. Spending his spare time reading had made the child smarter and his vocabulary had expanded to the point where he sounded more adult-like than Dick, who would’ve been twenty three if he were still alive.

While Damian had tutors to teach him basic education, Dick found himself as Damian’s primary teacher. They spent many evenings together sitting on Damian’s bed and going over the things Damian had learned that day.

One evening as they conversed in Arabic, practicing the language to prep Damian for a test the next day, Talia walked in, a figure following behind her. At the sight of her follower, a hiss escaped Dick and he stiffened on Damian’s bed, fist clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. Taking note of Dick’s strange behavior, Damian bowed to his mother before standing up straight and looking at the wall behind her.

“Who were you speaking to, Damian?” Talia asked in a falsely sweet voice, her eyes roaming the Spartan room suspiciously.

“No one mother, I was practicing my Arabic for teacher Mohan’s exam tomorrow.” Damian fibbed, having learned long ago that Dick was a secret for only him to keep. He dutifully lowered his eyes to the floor waiting for his mother to call out his lie.

“Hmmmm…” Talia hummed, clearly not believing Damian but dropping the topic. Tilting her body, Talia motioned for the person standing behind her to stand in front of her. Damian watched with a suspicious eye, wary of the person that had caused his friend to act such a way.

“This is Deathstroke, he will be your new teacher and will make you a warrior worthy of the house of Al Ghul.” Talia turned and left the room leaving the two alone in the room with their supernatural eavesdropper.

“You will call me master from now on, as you are my apprentice. Tomorrow morning at four, I expect to see you in the training room in the west hall. Wear comfortable clothing and eat well, tomorrow will not be easy for you.” Deathstroke smiled underneath his mask in malice, the only telling was his eye curving up. “I’ll see you in the morning, _apprentice_.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Damian was carried back to his room, at age six, bleeding from various cuts on his body and shaking with the telling after-shocks of electricity. Dick had heard Damian’s cries for his Almalak from the end of the hallway. The moment the servants had left Damian on his bed sobbing and covered in bandages, Dick rushed to Damian’s side.

He had held Damian’s hand and tried to soothe the child, running his hand through Damian’s blood matted hair and trying to hush the child with comforting lies. Damian couldn’t be comforted though, he twisted and turned in his bed, the sheets twisting around his legs to the point they almost cut off his circulation and soaking the bed in sweat and tears. His body twitched and Dick could only watch in horrified agony as Damian’s skin rippled underneath his ministration and the child pleaded and begged for Dick to take away his pain.

Eventually, the sobs quieted to hiccups and Damian curled unto one side facing Dick who still held his hand in a painful grip. Damian’s red eyes met Dick’s for a second and as a tear fell from his eyes he whispered “I hate this place.” Dick could only hold Damian’s pain filled gaze with his own agonized look and squeeze the hand he held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp, this story took a sharp turn for the worst but don't worry the fluff and happiness is soon to come since school finally finished. Comment and tell me what you guys think! Comments are my food and inspire me to write faster ad better!


	3. Part 3

Part 3:

Dick sighed as he watched a seven year old Damian swing his katana through the air as he practiced his forms. The last year had been another one of change for Damian. The few qualities that Damian had manage to hold on to from last year had disappeared, only appearing during times of extreme stress or those few and in between moments when Damian let down his guard in front of his Almalak. It was like taking care of a whole new child, a child who had the face and body of a seven year old but the maturity and mannerisms of a sixteen year old. Damian no longer wanted help with his homework or kisses and cuddles, Dick couldn’t even hold the kid in his lap anymore due to a surprising growth spurt.

Damian hadn’t been the only one to change though, Dick thought as he watched Damian mess up a step and made a mental note to tell Damian to lift his knees higher. The “incident” as it had come to be called, shook Dick too. He had to watch Damian cry in pain and writhe in his bed for weeks without being able to do anything. He couldn’t even grab a glass of water for the child because his sentential body was transparent and would just go through the cup.

So in desperation he had done something he hadn’t done since his parents died; he prayed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed in God but the memories of his parents praying together and attending mass every Sunday had made it difficult for him. Memories like his Mom dressed in her Sunday best, smiling at his father and him and asking if she looked nice. His father lifting him up and carrying him to bed when he fell asleep during the nightly prayers.

 It hadn’t helped that Bruce had been a strict atheist. Dick was sure if he had asked, Bruce would’ve let him go to mass but after all the things he had done for Dick it seemed rude to ask for one more thing. After his parents death he had worn his parents and his rosary beads every day, clutching them when he needed strength, but as the years went by the rosary found its way from his neck, to his wrist, to his bedside, to a drawer where he held all his precious things.

That night as Damian had slept, whimpering even in his dreams and on painkillers strong enough to knock out a cow, Dick had knelt by his bedside and prayed asking God for guidance and healing for Damian. That night God sent him Michael. Michael was Dick’s savior, he had explained how guardian angels could take a portion of their charges pain to relieve them and how despite the fact that when Dick had first came back to earth he could touch things now as his soul was getting used to his body, his body was becoming too pure for the things of earth.

Dick was brought out of his revelry as the noises of doors slamming reached his ears. He shook out the feathers to his wings- another thing Michael had taught him about- before turning to the entrance of the training arena, prompting Damian to do the same. The doors banged open and in came Deathstroke dragging a bounded man by the collar of his shirt before practically throwing the man at Damian’s feet.

“Kill him.” Deathstroke commanded, his voice echoing across the arena as he walked to wear Damian was.

“Pa-Pardon, Master?” Damian asked sounding as submissive and formal as ever but still failing to hide the confusion and horror in his voice.

“You heard me, right. Kill him. I don’t care how as long he stops breathing.”

Dick looked on in horror as Damian stood stock-still, clearly in a mental turmoil- despite everything, Dick had still managed to pass on his morals on killing to Damian. _Would he do it? Would he let that man take the last shred of his innocence?_ Damian’s hands shook at his side and Dick watched beads of perspiration slide down his troubled face.

“Boy, you better kill him or I’ll have to punish you.” A warning was snarled from the sidelines, Deathstroke shifting as though he was just itching to punish Damian again.

Damian’s face paled and he gave a look of pleading to Dick, begging for forgiveness of what he was about to do. Dick watched Damian shakily lift the katana and held it right above the heart, tears were coming out of the man’s eyes staining the already soiled shirt he was wearing. As Damian pulled back ready to plunge the sword into his heart Dick heard the man offer up one last prayer and then the katana pierced his flesh. The man’s eyes shot open, his mouth wide open in a silent scream. As the last of the light in his eye’s left, the man turned his head and caught Dick’s gaze. Within that split second the man managed to convey a plea for help and then his eyes flickered and he flopped to the floor like a useless rag doll.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Damian’s inner eyesight began to flicker when he was age eight. Micheal had explained beforehand that as children grew they began to lose their innocence, this affected their ability to see their guardian angel and eventually forgot those who protected and guided them in their young. Some were lucky and had faint memories of their childhood companions but usually labeled them off as an imaginary friend. Once the child began to lose their eyesight it was expected of the guardian to leave and watch from afar.

Damian’s first kill had taken the last shred of innocence he had held. Dick tried to stay as long as he could, hovering above Damian and trying to speak to him- trying to make him acknowledge him- but nothing seemed to work, to Damian it was as if Dick had never existed. He watched as Damian became more cold and dark, as he turned into the perfect assassin and apprentice Deathstroke and Talia had wanted him to be.

Eventually, Dick realized there was nothing more he could do, and one early morning he left. Leaving Damian with a soft kiss on the forehead and a blessing.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

On Damian’s ninth birthday, Dick found himself at Gotham, the place where his life ended and his afterlife had started. He watched as Batman and Robin swung across the Gotham skyline, his heart yearning to follow them. Instead he turned to the moon where it hung above him, his thoughts turned to a certain green eyed assassin and he wondered if Damian ever felt that something was different- _in the middle of training, Damian suddenly stopped, clutching his chest_ \- if he felt that something or someone was missing.

_Damian turned staring up at the opened roof top, identifying the types of birds he saw flying around to calm himself, a faint memory began brewing in his mind. A soft voice gently showing Damian each bird, a laugh and warm smile when he did something right._

_“Happy Birthday, Damian.” A soft voice whispered in his head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is not the best cuz im running out of ideas I think the next chapter will be the last. we'll see damian finally meet his dad and find out who dick is and finf out more about whats been happening on the gotham side of things. comment and tell me what u think.


	4. Epilogue

Part 4:

At ten, Damian met his father and felt the same reverence and awe as he had when he met his mother. This same reverence and awe was met by a coldness that he hadn’t expected- his mother only spoke about how good of a warrior he was, how he never failed a mission and was an unstoppable force; but somewhere between the impossible and controlling standard his father became, he could hear a voice laughing as it broke down every story his mother told him of his father with much more realistic ones- a coldness that was reminiscent of his mother’s. So, in the face of such déjà vu, Damian did the first thing that came to mind.

“I expected you to be taller, father.” He mentally face palmed.

Outwardly his expression stayed the same but inwardly he moaned at the idiotic words he just spit out. His father unsurprisingly took it in a stride, and within a couple of minutes he found himself under the care of his father, watching his mother’s ship sail away.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The empty manor was a change from his busy grandfather’s base. Every step he took in the manor seemed to echo and while the cave which his father seemed to constantly preside in was well dusted and cleaned the manor seemed to be the opposite. His father refused to allow him downstairs, so to entertain himself, he found himself wandering the manor halls and admiring the pictures of his ancestors.

He was proud to note that he had taken from his ancestors and his father the high cheekbones and square jaw that every male Wayne seemed to sport. In fact, he looked exactly like his father when he was younger, except for his green almond eyes which proved his mother’s family. Distracted by his thoughts, Damian almost missed one of the more recent photos hung on the wall. _Almost._

He stared at the young man standing next to his father, blue eyes twinkling with mirth and black hair in an unruly state. His tan skin spoke of many days in the sun and his muscular figure suggested years of training. Damian, however, was struck by memories of laughter- the same laughter that haunted him for years-and two arms coming around him in a hug- something he was sure his mother, grandfather and Deathstroke wouldn’t be caught dead doing.

“ _Almalak_ …”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

His father found him slumped against the wall, staring at the same picture 4 hours later.

“Damian… are you ok?” His father asked, clearly surprised to see the boy in such a state. Damian thought about the question before shaking his head ‘no’. He straightened up and stared his father in the eyes _, he needed answers._

“That man… he… was there, in the league. He was my caretaker.” Bruce stiffened.

“That’s… impossible. He died. Dick died!” Bruce turned to the picture, his eyes stinging. Even years after his death, Bruce wasn’t over his failure that night. Now, Damian was here, telling him that there was a possibility that he had been alive, all these years.

“Of course, it’s possible. My grandfather has been alive all these years due to the power of the Lazarus pits, all they would need is the body.” Damian stood and made his way to the manor entrance. “Where is Alm-Dick’s grave?”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Bruce stared at the empty casket, standing next to a dirt-covered Damian who looked less shocked than he did. Appropriately, it began to rain creating a somber mood and Damian looked up at the sky.

“He’s alive and I’m going to find him.” Bruce laid a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“We’ll find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate how this ended but I couldn't think of any other way that wouldn't take like 6 hours to type up. However, this ending does open up a sequel! Comment and tell me what you think about this chapter and what you want to see in the sequel.

**Author's Note:**

> I was practicing again and this happened. Unfortunately the plot bunny wouldn't leave me so I had to write it. Comment and tell me what you think. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, it's eleven at night here and I only had four hours of sleep last night.


End file.
